


Strangers in a library

by cassiansmanbun



Category: His Dark Materials (TV), His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-01-11
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiansmanbun/pseuds/cassiansmanbun
Summary: Asriel and Marisa meet for the first time at a library in Oxford
Relationships: Lord Asriel & Lyra Belacqua, Lord Asriel/Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua/Marisa Coulter, Lyra Belacqua/Will Parry, Mary Malone/Will Parry
Kudos: 18





	Strangers in a library

Lord Asriel was half way between sipping his coffee and wrestling with his crumpled notes when he noticed the flash of green silk and glistening brown curls between the gaps of the bookshelves. His daemon, Stelmaria, lifted her head, which before had been resting on her paws, and pricked her ears, alert. The anonymous woman’s steps were exposed by the creaking of the old library’s floorboards, but they were slow and careful. The scattering of small paws could be heard too, and Lord Asriel assumed that to be her daemon. 

He was not in the best of moods, struggling with a difficult equation that required the consultation of books which seemingly hadn’t been opened for years, as suggested by the dust that had accumulated on their pages. Furthermore, he’d been in Oxford for far too long. He missed the bracing cold of the North, the aurora that danced and glittered in the sky each night and the anticipation of discovery and revelation. He was tired of the haggard faces of the scholars, of their silent disapproval and grimacing. He was in his prime, going from one hypothesis to the next, following trails, finding dead ends, then connecting old ideas and with new ones. He was in the throng of a complex and intricate web, but the stuffiness of England had stifled his streak of discovery. Even coffee couldn’t soothe his agitation and restlessness. 

He’d thought he was alone in the library, and was finding some relief in the privacy and silence, the warm anbaric lights reminding him of his laboratory in the North. Stelmaria had been purring dozily beneath the table on which he sat, her spotted tail swishing back and forth against the carpet. However this new arrival was a welcome break from the equations and droning essays which made his eyes sore. He got up slowly, nursing his coffee cup in both hands, trying to be as still as possible. He saw through the gaps the woman’s delicate back, the shifting of her hair as she scanned the bookshelves. Stelmaria was propped up behind him, as curious as he was. He started slightly as a monkey with dazzling golden fur leaped up to her shoulder, but he was intrigued by him, and admired his nimble black fingers and proud curled tail. 

But the monkey sensed his presence behind him, and turned quickly, his black eyes hostile. The woman turned too and leapt as she saw Lord Asriel standing behind the shelf. Her shoulder caught on the some books and they fell to the floor with a thud muffled by the carpet. “Oh sorry, let me help you,” he said, swiftly putting his coffee down and going down the aisle between the two shelves, Stelmaria padding behind him. She was already kneeling down and gathering up the fallen books, and the golden monkey watched him intensely as he picked up the spares. He glanced fleetingly at the woman, and was taken aback by her gentle face and striking brown eyes, framed by her carefully pinned curls which shone like polished ebony. “How long had you been staring at me for then?” she said, whilst slotting the books back in there places. A sharp eyebrow lifted as she spoke, her voice sweet and intoxicating, her words clear and smooth. Asriel paused, feeling awkward. And he wasn’t one to feel awkward.  
“I’m sorry that I gave you a bit of a fright, I was going to say hello,” he replied, trying to seem  
nonchalant.  
“It’s alright, it feels like any innocent library goer could appear to be sneaking up on you in this maze,” she glanced around the library, then directly at him.  
“Each turn‘s a surprise,” he answered. Behind them, their daemons assessed each other quietly, Stelmaria twitching her ears and the monkey tilting his head.  
“So do you study at Oxford?” She was facing him fully now, leaning against the bookshelf, forearms clasped. She had a magnificent silhouette, balanced and curving subtly at the hips and waist, highlighted by the satin sleeved dress she wore. The emerald contrasted with her dark hair beautifully.  
“Experimental theology,” he smiled. Their daemons had began to circle each other. The woman nodded, and traced the spine of a book with an almond shaped nail.  
“Experimental? Sounds radical,” she gave a smirk, and Asriel was struck by her youth, the freshness of her skin, like morning dew on grass.  
“Yes, that’s why I’m spending my evening in the most radical of places,” he shook the shelf, which wobbled precariously. The woman smiled coyly, her mouth a rose pink.  
“I’m Marisa.”  
“Lord Asriel.”  
“No,” she exclaimed, “the man of the North?”  
“I do tend to spend a lot of time there.”  
“You’re quite infamous amongst the Church,” she raised her eyebrows, “your ideas seem to be rather... testing.” Lord Asriel felt his stomach sink at this. He was beginning to like the young woman, but then she added “Grumpy old sods,” and his liking for her rose up again.  
“Affiliated with the Church then?”  
“I suppose so, but don’t tell them I called them grumpy old sods,” she said slyly.  
“Oh, I’ll do that myself,” he grinned. 

There came a bouding sound as their daemons began to chase each other playfully. Marisa smiled in return, and there was a distracted silence between them as they stared into each other’s eyes, before she continued;  
“I was roped in at a young age you see. Rather unusual for a woman to be involved with the Church’s doing, but they need some way of staying in touch with the real world. They’re enveloped in a holy bubble of divinity and don’t seem to grasp that we’re not living in the middle ages anymore.”  
“Quite true,” Asriel agreed, “So what are you here for? Some light reading?” He pulled out a thick volume about the origins of anbaric lighting and felt its weight in his hand, his face contorting in mock strain. She laughed, the sound tender and genuine. Her monkey daemon shyly stroked Stelmaria’s fur.  
“Anbaric lighting, what a fascinating subject. We rely so heavily upon it yet I’m not that knowledgeable about the subject.”  
“I’m sure there are more concise ways to explain it than-“, he scrunched his eyes to read the author’s name , “- K. Mann has.”  
“A rambling old scientist, no doubt. Oh wait, I’m sorry, I must not insult your kind!” she pushed his chest playfully.  
“Better being a rambling old scientist than a devout preacher’s daughter,” he teased.  
“Who said anything about being a preacher’s daughter?” she gasped in feigned shock.  
“Surely not?” He felt his exchange with her become easier, and their daemons were no longer eyeing each other wearily, but were relaxed in each other’s presence, occasionally batting a paw softly at one another.  
“Oh God no,” she replied tartly, “I was brainwashed by the scriptures of Christianity on my own accord.” Asriel chuckled quietly. His blue eyes were glittering with a growing liking for this woman. She was certainly beautiful. But intelligent and sharp too. Her brown eyes that were as deep as dark forest alluded to wit and an ability to deduce quickly. She was like a cat, slipping like water through the night, listening for mice or birds, pouncing swiftly. Lord Asriel felt a subtle yearning to learn more of her, and also a similarity between them, a tug. 

“Listen, I’ve been stuck in this stuffy place for a while now,” he flicked a hand at his desk that was brimming with stacks of books and crumpled paper and snapped pencils. “My coffee is probably lukewarm too, and if I don’t find a solution to this sodding equation I might go insane.” Marisa tilted her head. He was getting at something. “So,” he paused, the tiniest bit hesitant, “Would you like to get a drink?” She shifted, seemingly considering the offer. She looked down at her daemon, and consulted him in silence. He looked back up at her, small hands clasped. Asriel felt a brush of fear. Was this too forward? She’d only just met him, after all. And in a god forsaken library too.  
“That would be a pleasure,” she answered, a smile creeping across her mouth. Asriel was relieved he accepted the offer.  
“I’ve heard the Borealis is a good bar, their coffee and liquor is sublime.”  
“The Borealis it is,” she agreed, “And how fitting too, you being a northern man.”  
“Truly.” They paused for a minute, and she had an expression of girlish mischief which made him shiver. 

“Let’s go then,” she exclaimed, adding “Lord Asriel”, with an emphasis on lord. And so they did. The two newly met acquaintances stepped out from the library and onto the silver wet pavements of Oxford, Asriel’s satchel over his shoulder and Marisa’s shoes splashing and smacking in small puddles. The street lamps danced behind the soft drizzle, blotting every artificial light so they were as obscure and as blurred as the stars above. And eventually the figures of the heavy shouldered man and the woman’s delicate silhouette, and their daemons, the leopard and the monkey, faded away into the night, on their way to the Borealis.


End file.
